


Lo, I Sought

by thepizzasitter



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Body Paint, Bottom Dande | Leon, Caretaking, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Sex, Gentleness, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Making Love, Masturbation, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Subspace, Tenderness, Top Nezu | Piers, Trust, Wax Play, Writing on Skin, leon is a galarian history professor, not really an AU just leon and piers working at the university post game, piers paints loving words all over our historian and seals it with wax, this is unbearably soft, when he's not at the battle tower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25369786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepizzasitter/pseuds/thepizzasitter
Summary: "There’s a pretty spirit kneelin’ afore me,” Piers quoted teasingly, leaning against the door frame. “Lost, sweetheart?”Leon shook his head, swallowing hard at the ease with which Piers could recall the play. A second date, one he had never expected to be granted. Piers had wrapped his fingers around Leon’s just after intermission.“Found, actually.”
Relationships: Dande | Leon/Nezu | Piers
Comments: 12
Kudos: 79





	Lo, I Sought

**Author's Note:**

  * For [transnezu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/transnezu/gifts).



> Happy birthday Ashe!!!! Love you so very much and I hope this year is as gentle and good to you as you are to us!
> 
> The music I listened to was a cover of [Here with Me (Susie Suh and Robot Koch) by Chris Yenney.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4dardpE5Jl4) It's such a beautifully emotional song, and I loved how it felt with the story. In this, we have Leon several years into the future as he walks his recovery path from the events of the game. Everything in this fic is super gentle, but for those who might be wary of the tags, the Dom/sub dynamic in this one is very loose. Leon is in enough of a particular mood that he doesn't need much that day to get him under, so Piers' role is more one of indulgence and facilitation rather than discipline.
> 
> I wanted to engage with some themes and how they interact. Collections like death, history, the past, and ghosts as well as learning, growth/progress, life, and corporeality. Throughout history, poison plays such a dramatic role in both real world situations and the ones found in many of the plays we read or see today. The situation surrounding Eternatus felt very much like a nod to some of those tales, and I wanted to show the aftermath, specifically Leon's as he moves forward from that time in his life.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!! Come yell with me on Twitter! My main/cosplay account is shyloren and my Pokemon side account is CryptidPiers

“You excited?” Leon asked quietly, scratching Charizard under his chin, smiling at the pleased chuffing noises he made as he leaned into the touch. “Yeah, me too.”

He pushed open the door to find the room nearly empty, only a handful of Pokémon asleep in beds or milling about. It was early yet, the sun just beginning to rise and his heart thundered in his chest when it highlighted Piers standing at the window, a Morgrem passed out in his arms and drooling lightly on his shoulder.

The singer noticed him standing at the door and Leon thought he might burst at the small smile that his presence received. Piers put a finger to his lips and jerked his head, sighing contentedly when Leon nearly tripped over himself to come wrap Piers up in a hug and kiss him on the cheek.

“Oddest Toxel I’ve ever seen,” he teased, and Piers snickered.

“It’s a regional variant,” he retorted and Leon stifled his own laughter into Piers neck, running his lips back and forth along the soft skin. Piers hummed and tilted his head to the side, closing his eyes.

“Tired?” Leon asked, turning Piers so he could pepper kisses all over his face, paying special attention to the circles under his eyes.

“Always,” Piers said sardonically before shrugging. “A student didn’t come back till late, and Nora had already been here for nearly six hours. Her joints were startin’ to bother her. Sent her home and waited with the Dhelmise till its trainer came back. Thank Arceus ghosts have such shite sense of time. But I’ll be alright. Besides, I have Charizard here to help now, isn’t that right, mate?”

Charizard rumbled in agreement and went over to start checking bassinets and beds alike, assuring himself that all was well.

The Morgrem scrunched her nose in her sleep and Piers ran a hand through her hair, settling her back down with her fingers wrapped around his.

“Looking at the two of you, no one would ever know you were at war,” Leon couldn’t help but rib, an innocent look on his face in response to Piers’ glare.

“Marnie’s beastie is a menace because Opal thought it would be funny to steal my last two hours of sleep. _This_ perfect lass knows how to behave herself because _I’m_ raisin’ her.”

Leon put his hand on Piers’, stroking the soft hair a while longer before he sighed.

“I don’t want to go to work,” he said, pouting. “Wanna stay here with you and look after cute Pokémon.” Piers laughed and shooed him towards the door.

“They’re not so cute when they’re pissin’ each other off and hungry enough to take a snap at my hand. Go deal with your weird mornin’ people and leave me to my miserable fate,” Piers said, carefully maneuvering the Morgrem into a free bed.

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” Leon said, blowing a kiss that was caught and tossed over Piers’ shoulder. He laughed and staggered, hand on his heart as he walked towards the door. His eyes widened when something just this side of heated sparked in the other’s eyes and he suddenly found himself with a hand against his chest, walking him backwards until he was up against the wall.

“Piers? Mm—”

Oh…oh that was…

Piers’ lips were warm against his, his body pressed up against Leon’s so perfectly. Hands gripped his sides, and Leon moaned quietly into Piers’ mouth, his eyes closing from the feeling of the other slipping a tongue into his mouth.

The easy stillness of the morning was just barely breaking in the hallways, but he could still hear the way both of their breath quickened whenever they would pause before moving back in.

He panted softly when Piers finally broke away, and he felt dizzy when he realized he could feel Piers’ heartbeat pressed just under his own, beating just as quick, just as fiercely.

“ _That_ is a proper goodbye.”

“I love you,” he whispered, and Piers tugged him down for a much softer kiss, hands gentle on his face, thumbs stroking his beard.

“Love you, Leon,” he answered, backing away before they could break any of the decency rules Leon was itching to ignore. “More’n the darkness loves my city.”

“Will you come over tonight?” He asked, and even he could hear the pleading in it. Piers smiled, ever surprised to hear he was wanted despite Leon’s best efforts to show how much he wanted him around _all the time_.

“’Course. Whoever makes it home first can choose dinner, yeah?”

_Home_ , he thought giddily. It had him floating on air for the rest of the day, the sound of it on repeat in his head.

/////

His flat—his _real_ flat—had always been a sanctuary. The public front he sometimes lived in was nice, and he had enjoyed the nights he’d stayed there. The people who lived there now absolutely adored it, and the way Piers had looked at him when he found out it was a family from the innermost parts of Spikemuth and Leon had no intention of collecting rent…

He shivered with the echoes of that pleasure and unlocked the door.

Not all of his motivations were entirely unselfish. His reward just hadn’t been in money.

Either way, that place wasn’t this.

This home where all was quiet and the only ones who needed him were those he needed just as much.

He slowly let go of his day, replaying the good and the bad and the mundane as he’d gone about his work at the University. He listened to the steady voice in his head that sounded like his therapist as it reminded him that he was doing well, didn’t need to be anything but exactly who he was at any given moment, whatever that may look like. There was no need for perfection, no one now who mattered that would ever expect that of him again.

His students had been restless today, with testing in their immediate future, and so he had shifted class away from their topic and instead began to ask about their tests; what they felt strong in and what they wished they had studied more for.

Soon enough, it wasn’t class at all, but a last-minute study session as they all discussed and argued and let him fade to the background, only drawn in when needed.

It was the best kind of day when he could simply watch them, enjoy as they learned and enjoy as he learned through them. He thought of Mustard and wished his teacher could be here on the mainland, knowing he would take one look at Leon and see how _happy_ he finally was.

He had the Battle Tower, and his teaching position whenever that grew overwhelming. He frequently wondered how he had ever lived without a break, without room to breathe. He had berated himself in the beginning for it.

Now, he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Even on the days that were turbulent, full of overstimulation and his skin feeling like it might split from how desperately he needed to exist outside of himself, there was still the underlying understanding that things would cycle back around. It might not help in that moment, but it certainly made preparing for and coming out of those times far easier.

Right now, however, there were only still waters, free of Sharpedos in the darkness of the evening, and something buzzing in his veins that he wanted to chase tonight.

He made food for them both, knowing they wouldn’t be eating together, and set Piers’ on the warmer when it was done. His own was laid out on the kitchen island, and he ate as he scrolled through his messages from the day.

His fingers crept down to where his cock had begun taking an interest the moment he’d stepped into the flat.

He exhaled slowly, undoing the buttons on his slacks, teasing himself through the material until he could slip a hand between him and the fabric, his mouth parting and his grip on the fork faltering when he ran a thumb over the head of his cock.

He’d been craving this all day.

_That’s it, love,_ and he shivered when Piers’ voice crooned at his ear, a ghostly echo of the real thing, but familiar and comforting to him nonetheless. _Want you to work yourself up for me. Let me see how much you’re needin’ it._

He shoveled another bite in to muffle the quiet moan that escaped him. He imagined Piers behind him, biding his time and letting him finish his food before he would come over and run deft hands down his back, easing away any need to perform, any desire to do anything but exist with him there.

He thought about Piers putting his hand over his own, letting Leon keep control for only a few moments more before his fingers took over.

He could simply brace his arms on the counter, give himself over to this person who had never failed to understand what he needed, who he was, how deeply he felt and how overwhelming that could sometimes be.

His pleasure would be entirely in Piers’ hands, and there was nowhere in the world he was safer.

Leon choked on a breath, his forehead pressed against cool marble, feeling short on air as he stroked himself. It wasn’t going to be enough. He felt so empty.

He needed to feel Piers moving inside him, taking him however he wanted. Some days it was just the opposite, and the fire under his skin demanded that he be buried deep in his lover, listening to all the ways he could satisfy him and then doing it all over again an hour or two later.

This was not one of those days.

He managed to halt his movements, breathing in and out before he put his dishes in the sink and went upstairs, getting some supplies together and laying them on the bed before he stripped and settled down to the floor on his knees, a loose splay to his legs so that he wouldn’t start hurting too much before Piers came home.

He allowed his mind to drift towards plans for Monday, the grading that still needed to be done, some of the things his students had written that had stuck with him, an idea for a place to get lunch with Piers if he could Furret him away from the daycare for an hour.

The passage of time was meaningless as he kneeled, and wasn’t that just the most freeing of feelings? He could drift from thought to thought like this, waiting rather than running, and to one who had spent every moment of their life at a pace that took in everyone’s input but their own, it was everything he wouldn’t have known he needed just a few years ago.

He could linger here, a Lampent in the dark till his leerie came to tend to him.

Eventually, the telltale sounds of Piers returning home traveled up the stairs, and he closed his eyes, sinking into a place he kept at the corner of his mind, a blanket of calm. Just the cornerstone Piers would build upon if all went well.

“Cheers to the fuckin’ weekend, Princess!” He heard ring out, and he grinned, biting his lip and stifling a laugh, his heart swelling in his chest. “Leon? You home?” He wished he could go down and gather him close, sit with him as he ate, but he could be patient.

He floated along in his thoughts as he heard the clinks of silver against ceramic, a glass set down, the sink running. Piers’ voice as he talked to their Pokémon. As he hummed, low and beautiful, always a call to Leon’s heart.

When the singer made his way upstairs, his pulse picked up speed, his body full of anticipation for the way the other would look at him, the touches that would follow.

And sure enough, Piers came through the door and Leon knew he had done well.

A moment. And two and three. A quiet intake of breath as Piers’ eyes took him in, naked and waiting and wanting. Leon was a supplicant at altars long forgotten by even the most ancient of Galarian texts, now known only through songs passed down by devoted tongues, translations upon translations and their meaning long gone to dust. It didn’t matter, in a way. Not when it meant that altar could be re-written to be one of tribute to how very, very much he loved this man. Piers somehow always knew when Leon was kneeling on something closer to sacred ground than just the floor of their bedroom.

“Lo, I sought my love upon his sleepin’ place. He rose to knee and brush of lips upon my hand. There’s a pretty spirit kneelin’ afore me,” Piers quoted teasingly, leaning against the door frame. “Lost, sweetheart?”

Leon shook his head, swallowing hard at the ease with which Piers could recall the historical play. A second date, one he had never expected to be granted. Piers had wrapped his fingers around Leon’s just after intermission.

“Found, actually.”

His mouth was taken in a fierce kiss that left him breathless.

_I’m yours, did you know that? This kiss is yours. And the ones tomorrow. And all the ones after. I seal this upon paper, upon my skin._ It was a favorite in his classes, one he and the literature department had always agreed upon even when he had been a student rather than a professor.

He followed the way Piers’ hands guided him to standing, only to push him down onto his back on their bed, immediately climbing atop of him to keep him there.

As if this wasn’t where he had been aching to be since the early hours of the morning.

Their lips moving together sent visions dancing behind his eyelids. History and its lovers, found in the secret corners of Galar, their passion writ upon the stones he tread, a hand across the entrance to a home that had stood since the time of Kings and heroes. In the pages and between the stacks of the library in the University, on the fields of battle as life and death gave way to sport, as a new sort of battling emerged from the weariness of war.

If the future forgot all else, he hoped that it did not forget this.

“Keep still,” Piers commanded, and he obeyed, only his chest rising and falling with his breath when they parted, and the singer moved away from the bed to go downstairs.

He returned with his arms filled, setting everything on the bedside table, arranging them as he liked. Leon wished he could turn his head to look.

“If you need to safeword,” Piers said when he started to undress, “Use your secondary one.”

_Green, yellow, red_ , he thought. At least one of those stood a chance of being said, then. _Poison_ it was, though he doubted he’d be using it tonight.

“Sit up,” he instructed quietly, and Leon did so, keeping his eyes forward. “Eyes closed.”

He felt the soft fabric of a blindfold being wrapped around his head, and his heart beat Buneary-quick when Piers carefully made sure none of his hair was caught uncomfortably in the knot.

He took in a shaky breath, and felt Piers’ fingers stroke his neck, trailing down his chest, playing with the hair there for a moment before he moved further down, making the muscles of his stomach jump under the light touch, until Piers took up his cock in his hand.

“Mm, you’re drippin’, love.”

Leon nodded, squirming a little when Piers tugged him over to lie on his stomach.

“Think I’ll be keepin’ with that theme then.” Leon had a few moments to wonder what he meant before something cold and wet suddenly touched his shoulder blade. He only barely managed to keep from twitching.

It moved downwards in a looping scroll, traveling up and down and whirling in strange shapes before he suddenly realized what was happening.

His hands fisted in the sheets, and he whimpered.

“Easy,” Piers gentled, stilling him before the brush started up again. “Don’t move, or I’ll stop.”

It was the simplest of punishments, and yet he couldn’t have found one more likely to make Leon desperate to do anything to prevent it. At first, he tried to focus on the way the lines moved, trying to figure out what it was that Piers was drawing or writing. The singer worked his way across the expanse of him, some of his strokes wide and covering large areas, others tightly curled on themselves.

On and on, lines over lines over lines over lines over—

He sighed and felt his body relaxing into it little by little.

Care was given to each touch of the brush, Piers singing under his breath as he went, a familiar habit that Leon hoped he’d keep forever.

“Piers,” he murmured, and the other leaned down to brush his lips over his temple. His mind was a little fuzzier than usual. He loved this in-between space nearly as much as being fully under, the world slow and syrupy.

“S’alright, sweetheart, I’m almost done with the back. Just gotta seal it.”

_Oh…_

The hot sting of the wax on his back made him cry out, hips jerking instinctively before he was able to stop himself. Another splatter immediately followed, and he whined, the sharp pinprick of it so good against his skin.

Another brush began to coat his back before the wax could cool, sometimes with a new burning sensation and other times just a light heat when the brush was dipped first before touching him. By the time his back was fully covered, he was shaking, overstimulated and living for it when Piers turned him over.

“You’re doin’ so good for me,” Piers murmured, and Leon’s tongue was just this side of too heavy to answer. He moaned when Piers leaned down to suck at his nipples, bite at his neck, whisper his love into his ear.

When he moved away, it was to grab the paint again, and the contrast of cold and hot made Leon shudder. He wished he could take off the blindfold, watch Piers as he marked him all over, writing and painting and making him his.

He sobbed when Piers finished and the wax started up once more, feeling like he might come untouched when some was dripped onto his thighs as well, every part of him trembling and aching for relief. Tears leaked from the corner of his eyes, and sweat clung to the fabric, stinging them.

“ _Please_ ,” he begged, mouth barely cooperating and too far gone to care. “Please, please, please—”

“Please, what, love?”

He didn’t know. It didn’t matter. _Anything, anything at all_ —

He could have wept in relief when Piers took pity and pushed two fingers into him, slick and deep and _perfect_.

“This?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “Piers, _please_!”

“Hm, you givin’ orders now, love? I’m happy to let you take a turn if that’s how you’re wantin’ it.”

“No,” he moaned, and keened low in his throat when Piers added another as a reward, stretching him.

“Good,” Piers said, and suddenly his eyes were freed from the blindfold, allowing him to blink blearily into the dark. “You can move, now, if you like.”

Leon struggled with his limbs, finally managing to wrap them around Piers, pressing his face against the other’s neck. He spread his legs, locked them around the singer’s hips, panting harshly when Piers fucked his fingers into him harder, specks and little sparks of light dancing at the corners of his eyes.

He would never have enough of this beautiful, quiet space.

“Sweetest one,” Piers said softly. “Hold tight to me.”

He could do nothing else. Piers sheathed himself within his body and he might have shaken apart had he done anything but dig his nails into the soft skin of Piers’ shoulder and let himself be moved.

He went silent between one thrust and the next, his mind disconnecting and unable to form a thought that wasn’t how good it felt, how safe, how loved he was by the one he loved in turn.

There was nothing but this, and this, and this. Every push into him, every far away sound, every brush of Piers’ mouth on his, each strand of black and white hair under his fingers, and the way their hearts were beating a gently chaotic score to a story of their own that he wished he could shout on the rooftops from here to Postwick.

He hardly noticed when he spilled over, too far gone from his body to do more than note the uptick of pleasure amidst all the rest of it. Distantly, he could feel Piers moving his arms from around the singer’s back to lace their fingers together.

A handful of thrusts more, and Piers gasped his name, quick breaths against Leon’s ear before he brushed his lips against the side of his face and came inside him.

/////

Everything was warm, a love letter sealed in green and blue wax, a sprig of rosemary tucked between its pages. He coasted along, a Drifloon in the night sky, knowing that he was safe to exist here as long as he liked, reading the words and committing them to memory.

When he finally came back down, exhausted and content, Piers was cleaning them both up and keeping his voice low as he talked in lieu of turning on the telly.

“—and I’m thinkin’ maybe a green? Milo was showin’ me this weird plant because he wants to see about it growin’ in dark environments, and it’s a good color. Gonna see if I can get it made and try that. Can always repaint if I hate it, but I’m so bored with starin’ at blank walls all day and the Pokémon would probably appreciate some new stuff to look at. Maybe some art or whatever. And I want a sound system if I can convince them to budget it, so they can watch videos and listen to music. Could try my hand at recordin’ something for them. Pretty hard veer from my usual stuff, gotta keep it mellow, but I like a challenge...”

He agreed, though he wouldn’t be able to speak for a long while yet. He smiled and settled in closer to Piers, closing his eyes and enjoying gentle hands stroking through his hair as he talked about his plans at the University’s daycare center. Growth where there had been only stale tradition. Neglect and its ghosts would have no more say.

_I laid the ink. It bled and set my heart before thee. Lo, I sought my love upon his sleeping place…_

/////

Leon brushed his fingers down his chest for a moment, letting the words that had been written on him echo in his mind like small, giddy phantoms before he pulled on his jumper.

They had long faded from the water of the shower and the bath he and Piers had soaked in together, but their existence would stay on him as long as he could remember them. He grinned and grabbed his bag, eager to get to the University.

“What do these mean?” He had asked when Piers held him from behind while he turned this way and that in the mirror. It was like no language he had ever seen.

“It’s from before, when Spikemuth went by another name. No one remembers what it was, but some of the important words are still around. We use them for courtin’ and the like, because history might enjoy its war and death, but it has a certain fondness for love, I suppose.” It was something Leon said often, and he beamed at Piers, laughing and holding him close.

A smile in return, a kiss over his forehead, where the past wandered corridors and wailed and warned. One to his heart, that lived and breathed the present, basked in Piers’ attention here in the home they were creating together. And his hands, which he used to bring his lover close, holding his future.

_I made you lunch, come eat with me whenever you have a break?_

He grinned at his phone, an old song half-remembered on his tongue as he made his way to work.

It was going to be a good day.


End file.
